Sherlock Makes a Discovery
by PrincessShoshana
Summary: (A JohnLock fic, because they're clearly meant to be together. Also, I'm bad at titles, sorry.) After "rescuing" John from Moriarty's clutches, Sherlock starts to realize something and wants to make sure John is satisfied... (M because I don't know how far I'll take it. :P)
1. Chapter 1

_Damn it._

Sherlock's eyes flicked between the two people opposite him, trying to assess the situation and figure out what he could do.

Moriarty stood at the other side of the room, watching the consulting detective with that usual creepy look on his face.

Or maybe that was just his face. Sherlock wasn't sure. Either way, he didn't like this situation one bit. He had been very interested in the case when it had come up: there were sudden disappearances happening everywhere within a 10-mile radius. The people started showing up one by one, dead and in a horrible state. Sherlock had been working on figuring out where they were being hidden and was so wrapped up (as always) that he didn't even notice something missing in the apartment.

This was why he took a double take when he saw that something sitting against the wall, hands and feet bound and mouth covered with duct tape.

_Damn it._

"You really didn't see this coming, did you?" Moriarty gave that high-pitched giggle and Sherlock remembered something John had said about it – that he sounded like one of the villains in some children's cartoon… Powerpuff Girls, if he remembered correctly. And he wasn't sure why he did.

Him. That was the villian's name. It had struck Sherlock as odd at first, but then he'd thought it a little brilliant. HIM – His Infernal Majesty, otherwise known as the devil; no one would see that in a kid's show.

"I figured out your puzzle," Sherlock stated, getting his mind back on track.

Moriarty shook his head. "No, you didn't. If you had, you wouldn't be so surprised at your partner being here. You really are so single-minded, aren't you? And not in the typical way."

"The typical way?" Sherlock inquired. He knew people were stupid, could it be because they were one-track minded in the wrong way?

"Sex, Sherlock."

Sex? Well, that made sense, he supposed. Though it was stupid as well, why distract yourself with something so trite and unnecessary?

"You're boring me," Moriarty stated, turning on his heel. "Who'd have thought I'd see the day? Let me know when you're back on your game."

As soon as the door shut behind him, Sherlock ran to John and freed him, too distracted by the situation to focus on the rest of the case and the evildoer behind it.

"Ow! Careful!" John cried as the tape was ripped off his mouth. "You obnoxious git, you didn't realize I was kidnapped? I was gone for almost 24 hours! What's wrong with you!?"

"There is nothing wrong with me," Sherlock told him simply. "I was simply focused on the task at hand. Now come on, let's just get home."

"Why, so you can just completely forget about me again while I get torn to pieces? I was a doctor in the war, not a soldier!"

Sherlock helped John to his feet and put his hands on either of his friend's shoulders as he looked into his eyes. "I will never let that happen to you again."

John was surprised by something about the consulting detective. His voice, his expression, it was different somehow. He couldn't quite place it, though, so he just nodded and mumbled an "alright" before quickly following his companion out.

* * *

"Sherlock?"

…

"Sherlock."

…

"_Sherlock_!"

"I'm not deaf, John, I can hear you just fine. What do you want?" Sherlock asked in his too calm voice, not bothering to look up from his computer.

John sighed, exasperated. "Then why weren't you answering me? I asked what you wanted to do about dinner. I'm not much fancying the idea of eating out tonight after getting jumped by Moriarty's men and there's nothing in the fridge, as usual."

"How about take-out? Our usual place is still promising for food, whether or not we actually stay there."

"Well, considering the situation at hand, I was hoping you might just take care of it yourself. You know, get the food and everything. But of course that was just me being my usual stupid self." John grabbed Sherlock's wallet and left with a few more choice words as the detective's eyes stayed glued to his laptop.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this updated. I was away for the weekend without computer access and when I got back I watched the last episode of Sherlock and was far too sad to write this. But I'm good now, so here ya go! Hope you like it! :)**

* * *

_'Damn that obnoxious git_'kept going through John's mind as he walked. He couldn't have just gotten the food, could he? Oh no, he had to just sit there on his stupid computer while the freshly-kidnapped-and-saved doctor went out.

He was thinking about how he was going to punch Sherlock a new one when he felt himself being pulled by his coat. The food fell from his hands as he was thrown against a dumpster with a loud noise. "Bloody hell…" John groaned and looked up to see a young punk, maybe 17 or 18, standing over him, fists clenched and ready for a fight.

"Gimme your money, old man."

_No way, I'm getting __**mugged**__?_ John thought, angrily shocked.

"I don't have any," John said, standing up.

"You're lying, you just bought food. No way you had the exact amount for it on you," the teen countered.

"It's called plastic, you daft punk. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm not very much in the mood for this sort of encounter," John spat defiantly as he walked past. No way was he going to deal with such crap now. Sherlock was _so_ getting punched tonight.

The kid grabbed John again and pressed him roughly against the stone wall, holding him in place with one arm while his hands roamed.

"_Get your bloody hands off my arse!_" John hissed.

"I'm just looking for a wallet, now shut up. You really think I'd want an old man like you?" He pulled a wallet from the doctor's coat pocket and flipped it open with one hand, smirking. "You little liar. Although this ID certainly isn't you, you're far uglier. You pickpocket someone?" He took a couple steps back, letting John loose from the grip.

Growling, John turned around and swung at the punk, landing a good fist right at his head with a smirk. "Don't fuck with me, kid."

The boy growled recovering quicker than John expected. "I didn't want this to become bloody, but I see your pride has left me no choice."

* * *

"John, would you—" _Oh, right. He went out._

Sherlock looked at the clock on the computer screen. John had left a half hour ago, so he should be back any moment, he thought as he stood up. He was getting hungry and tired of waiting, so he decided to meet John at the bottom. Putting on his coat and scarf, he bounded down the steps and left the apartment, but became confused when John was nowhere in sight.

He sighed and walked in the direction of Angelo's, figuring he'd meet John partway instead.

His mind went in circles as he wondered why John had seemed so angry earlier. What had he said? It was stupid to think Sherlock would get the food? Well, it was, that was John's job; Sherlock solved the cases and his flatmate took care of everything else.

John had had a bomb strapped to him once and he didn't flip out on Sherlock like he was doing now. It puzzled him, but not in the good puzzle sort of way. It was in that annoying way that people do, with their emotions always bouncing everywhere.

If John was a girl, Sherlock would have blamed his menstrual cycle, but he figured it was safe to assume this was not the case.

When he was a good few blocks away from the store, Sherlock spotted John and froze as he saw him get dragged into an alleyway, the food falling from his hands.

The detective sprinted forward, hoping he would make it before his friend got badly injured. He wasn't so confident, though, since he was almost two blocks away, but he tried anyway.

He got there just in time to see John recoil from a punch and pounced on the person who had dealt it, wrapping his long arms around the half-built frame and throwing him against the opposite wall. The kid—about 18, Sherlock noticed—didn't take well to this turn of events and rebounded, wrapping his hands tightly around Sherlock's neck.

With the distraction, John was able to sneak behind and grab him in a headlock, pulling him off the brunette, whose hand instinctively flung to his neck as he took deep breaths.

Once the teen was passed out, John let him drop to the ground and looked at Sherlock, who smiled.

"Oh, you are so dead!" John growled.

Sherlock's smiled formed into a confused frown. "What?"

"That never would have happened to me if you'd just not been selfish for once and gone out and gotten the damned food yourself!" He turned on his heel and picked up the bag, checking its contents to make sure the food was still intact. "You might want to check to see if the cash is still in your wallet. It should be on the floor there."

Sherlock grabbed his wallet, not bothering to look in it before following John. "Why are you so angry with me?"

"Because you anger me, that's why."

"John…"

"Let's just go home." He sighed and picked up his pace, wanting nothing more than to just put his feet up and watch some crap telly.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry it's so short, but I figured I should get something up. ^^' Sorry it took so long, I thought no one really liked it, so I lost interest, but someone asked me to continue it, so I did. :) Hope you like!**

* * *

"John, go make—"

"No."

Sherlock sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "John, please, stop being childish. It wasn't the first time you were kidnapped and you know better than to expect me to notice someone's absence."

"That isn't it," John mumbled, getting up and grabbing the kettle to make some tea.

"Then what?" the detective asked, sincerely confused at how annoying his flatmate was being.

John didn't answer as he continued to make his tea and Sherlock grew more annoyed. After almost two minutes of silence, he stood up and walked over to John, turning the doctor around so he could stare down at the older man's face. "Tell. Me. Now."

John stared up at the detective, feeling extremely small in such a situation. "You don't care," he whispered finally.

"I do care, John, that's why I'm aski—"

"No, I mean…" He sighed and pushed Sherlock's hands away. "I mean that's why I'm upset." Seeing Sherlock's frown, he explained, "We've lived together for about a year and a half now and you still have no respect for me. No respect to care enough to notice when I'm gone for an entire day and night or get the take-away when I'm not up to it because I was just kidnapped because of you. And that's just the recent stuff; I don't even want to get into everything else."

Sherlock leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against John's, a sort of contact neither had felt (for John with Sherlock, for Sherlock with anybody). "I do care, John. More than I wish to. I told you, I'd be lost without my blogger."

"Why are our heads together?" John questioned softly, wondering why his pulse was accelerating.

"So I can do this," Sherlock mumbled, leaning down a little more and kissing John gently.

The shorter man froze, his mind racing with thoughts (_what is he doing why what is going on is sherlock holmes kissing me i don't understand why is this happening why do i like it_) before he slowly melted into the kiss, snaking his fingers through soft, dark curls.

"John…" Sherlock mumbled, trying to keep his head straight. He had expected his mind to be racing with thoughts, but for the first time in his life, it was clear. Nothing was coming through, though he was sure to remember what was and would soon take place as their hands roamed each other.

John's brain, on the other hand, was a mess. Sherlock Holmes – _Sherlock bloody Holmes_ – was kissing him. _Kissing him_. "Yes, Sherlock?" he mumbled back, trying to get through his head of mush long enough to speak with the man.

"I apologize for not noticing your absence."

By now, half their clothes were already gone (_Well, so much for foreplay,_ thought John) and the brunette was pushing the shorter man towards a bedroom.

"I thought you were married to your work," John pointed out between kisses.

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he pushed John onto the bed. "People have affairs all the time, John. Don't be stupid."

The doctor couldn't help but smirk at the joke. It couldn't last long, though, because Sherlock was on top of him in moments, planting kisses everywhere, not even pausing at the scars covering the ex-army doctor. As they fell into a euphoric bliss, three simple words were uttered:

"I love you."


	4. Chapter 4

"John! John, come here quickly! _John!_"

John ran out of his room, stopping short in front of the kitchen, and words poured out in a worried frenzy. "What is it? Did you stab yourself again? Sherlock Holmes, you have _got_ to be more careful! I can't keep—"

"Oh, shut up, John, it's nothing like that." Sherlock rolled his eyes and excitedly held out a jar with what looked like a pink toad inside.

John arched an eyebrow and looked at Sherlock quizzically, mentally prodding him to explain. Sherlock sighed, "I managed to alter its genetic code and change the color! I've been working on this for three days, John!"

Ah, yes, three days. Right after what he had originally thought to be them showing certain hidden feelings for each other through 'sexy time,' only to be brushed aside and have that damn detective go back to his usual stupid experiments without so much as a "Good shag last night, John, well done."

Well, he didn't really want _that_, but not acting like nothing happened between them and pretending that John had never (_stupidly_, John admitted to himself) said that he loved Sherlock and that they were still just flatmates and nothing more.

God, how he wanted to punch that stupid git in the face.

"That's wonderful, Sherlock," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now if you'll excuse me." Without another word, the doctor retired back to his room, shutting the door forcefully and flopping onto his bed.

He could remember every single detail of that night like it was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him (or possibly the worst) and that stupid, stupid, stupid arsehole decided to just act like it hadn't even happened.

_Did I scare him away with my (stupid) declaration of love?_ He suddenly wondered. _He isn't one for feelings and maybe no one had ever told him that before and he's in shock._

_Maybe he needs a freaking lobotomy._

John sighed and sat up, rubbing his temples with his eyes shut tight. (_Damn it John, stop being such a girl!_) Should he talk to him? Probably. Did he want to? Not really. Instead, he laid back down, removed his belt, and drifted into sleep.

* * *

It was four P.M. when John awoke from his sudden nap and he rubbed his eyes groggily before getting up and splashing his face with cold water in an attempt to wake himself back up. It took a few minutes, but he managed and walked back out of his room with a sigh.

"Sherlock, I think we need to talk," he called out, walking into the living room area. Seeing no one, he frowned. Had Sherlock suddenly been called out on a case? Likely.

Sighing, John walked over to the fridge and, after grabbing an apple, noticed a small note attached to it.

_John,_

_I apologize for my lack of knowledge in this "feelings" area, but since you are so clearly bothered by this I am going to Lestrade's to try to figure this…thing out._

_Back soon._

_With love,_

_Sherlock_

The 'with love' part had been scrawled more than written and John could almost see the look of frustration on Sherlock's face as he wrote something so _sentimental_. He found himself wondering what Sherlock would do now – would he take John on a date? Perhaps a darkened theater where they could get particularly handsy if they so desired? Or maybe something more elegant, like a nice restaurant – far fancier than Angelo's, though he had quickly grown to love the place.

He became so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice anyone coming in until a familiar baritone told him to "Get out and come back in one hour."

With a roll of his eyes, John got up and did as he was told. As soon as he got out of the flat he realized just how hot it was and decided to get some ice cream while he waited, wondering just how he was going to spend the next hour.

* * *

John walked back into the flat exactly 68 minutes later and wasn't surprised to see a very upset Sherlock glaring at him.

"You're late," the detective spat, standing up from his seat.

"Oh, come off it, only 8 minutes." John rolled his eyes, then grinned. "So what is it then? I want my surprise!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I shouldn't even give it to someone so inconsiderate as to make me wait, but fine – in your room."

John quickly ran to his room, excitement filling his every step, and dashed inside. Seeing the surprise, a warm smile spread across his cheeks. "Sherlock, you shouldn't have."

"I shouldn't? I knew it, I don't know why on Earth I thought listening to Lestrade would be a good idea, his wife is cheating on him, for goodness sake. I mean, really, why—"

Sherlock's ranting was interrupted by John's lips attaching to his own and he immediately melted (not that he would ever admit it) and snaked his arms around the shorter man's neck as they kissed.

"Candles flooding my room and flower petals on my bed are beautiful (albeit, rather unsafe) and I love it. So shut up, alright?" John smiled warmly at the detective, who nodded slowly. "Good. Now what are our plans for tonight?"

"None. But tomorrow wear something nice, none of your silly little jumpers."

John laughed. "You love my jumpers, don't deny it!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but kissed John again, smiling against his lips.

_Sherlock Holmes,_ he thought to himself, _in love. Who would have guessed?_

* * *

**A/N: I can't say I'm very happy with how this chapter came out, but oh well. :P Hope you enjoyed anyway.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry this took so long! I had school, other stories and my laptop broke, so I have more limited writing time now. ^^' I'll try to do better next time, btu I hope you like this chapter. :)**

* * *

Sherlock rolled over in his bed multiple times until he just stayed on his back and looked up at the ceiling. He didn't sleep much, it happened to be, but when he decided to (always on John's insistence), he didn't usually have a problem. He contemplated getting up and doing something, but figured that it wouldn't be worth the rant he'd get from his flatmate if he was found out. Instead, he closed his eyes and let his mind wander to whatever it decided to think about. Of course, it thought about John.

Sherlock unknowingly smiled, thinking about the doctor. His cropped hair, his blue eyes that were always guarded yet still so caring… Even just the fact that he was able to tolerate the detective, who tended to piss people off and scare them away, was a huge emotional turn-on.

He didn't know how long he had been thinking about the doctor before his phone buzzed. The detective opened his eyes with a frown, annoyed at someone interrupting such wonderful thoughts, and grabbed his mobile.

**So I hear you and your pet are getting serious. Even planning a date? Very nice. Would be a shame if something happened to him… JM**

Sherlock stared at the text and felt anger bubble up inside him. Damn that man, how dare he threaten his John? Was he planning something? This wasn't good…

**Don't even think about it. SH**

Sherlock set his phone down, but had to almost immediately pick it back up as it buzzed.

**Too late. ;) Night, Sherlock. xx JM**

* * *

When John woke up the next morning, he almost immediately smiled. Tonight was his second surprise and he couldn't be more excited and happy that Mr. I Don't Do Emotions was doing…well, emotions. After checking his phone for any missed messages (none, of course), he got up and took a very quick shower. He couldn't help but wonder exactly what it was going to be. Something nice, obviously, but it had to be more than just a fancy dinner. Right?

After getting dressed, he went into the kitchen and tried to decide what he would make for breakfast. His mind kept telling him that he knew exactly what he wanted for breakfast: a tall, thin, gorgeous detective who happened to be in very close proximity to the doctor. Somehow, he managed to shake the thought off as he entered the kitchen.

"Good morning, Sherlock," John greeted him with a smile as he headed to the fridge to grab eggs, giving nothing more than a sigh at the various body parts next to it.

Sherlock didn't bother acknowledging John's greeting and instead told him he made a cup of tea, eyes not removing themselves from whatever apparently brilliant story was inside the day's newspaper. John didn't care today, though; nothing was going to ruin his day, knowing the man he loved had something great planned just to make him happy. And oh, how it did.

After the eggs were cooked, he set the plate on the table and sat down on the chair across from the detective. "Thanks for the cuppa."

Sherlock simply grunted in response and John didn't expect more until the detective suddenly put the paper down and looked at him. "Promise me something."

John raised his eyebrows and Sherlock continued.

"Promise me you'll be safe. You know as well as I do how dangerous Moriarty can be and I fear you may be in more danger than before now that we've confessed certain feelings for one another."

The intense stare Sherlock was giving the him made the older man resist the urge to shrink into his seat. What was he going to do, run around with a giant sign saying 'Hey, Moriarty! Just thought you should know I'm letting my guard down now, so come at me!'

"Stop doing that, you are not funny. Now promise me."

John frowned. Had he said that out loud or has Sherlock read his mind again? "Yeah, I promise. Of course."

The detective seemed to accept this and almost visibly relaxed, leaning back in his chair a bit. "Good. Thank you."

John didn't answer and went back to his eggs, not wanting them to get cold like his tea had. That seemed to be an impossibility, though, as he was immediately distracted by his food by soft lips making contact with his own chapped ones. He was surprised at first, but immediately got into it as Sherlock climbed over the table to cross over to the doctor, who was impressed that their kiss hadn't been broken to accomplish such a task.

The detective sat on John's lap an continued kissing him and John could feel his pants getting far too tight as long fingers reached down to stroke the bulge the older man knew he had.

"Sherlock," John panted against his lips and against every bone in his body that was screaming at him to just take the man right there.. "I just showered."

"I don't see your point," Sherlock hissed, pressing his hand against the bulge and smirking at the moan it elicited.

John pushed him off and the brunette frowned. "I don't want to have to take another one. Besides, I do think we should save our energy for later. I'm sure I'm going to be in a very…giving mood after your surprise tonight." He gave a seductive smirk and Sherlock excused himself to his bedroom. John laughed and shook his head, wondering if Sherlock would act like a normal person and wank off or if he would just lose himself in his mind palace for hours.

_Probably both_, he decided.

* * *

**I put a bit of a pun in there, because puns are my obsession. I almost put "heehee" in parentheses after it, but then decided to be professional instead. :P**

**Review, please!**


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